James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes | ɹǝᴉploS ɹǝʇuᴉM ǝɥ┴ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sinistral) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2019-05-07 06:25 pm
sinistral) wrote in driftfleet2019-05-07 06:25 pm
03. | When everything's meant to be broken
Who: the Bucky Barnes who no longer goes by Bucky or Barnes (sinistral)
Broadcast: no
Action: yes; SS Starduck, Lyndia
When: throughout the visit to the Bix star system
SPACE
→ SS Starduck;
PLANETSIDE
→ Sun's Rest;
→ Kenn-Tellnic;
→ Jungles;
WILDCARD
→ Elsewhere;
sinistral)Broadcast: no
Action: yes; SS Starduck, Lyndia
When: throughout the visit to the Bix star system
SPACE
→ SS Starduck;
Once, far enough back in Earth history that no one would likely truly remember it, some sarcastic jackass responded to a challenge with two now infamous words: Watch me. And while it's more likely than not that the Soldier had been in cryo for said occurrence, he certainly seems to embody the spirit thereof. He's been told, by several different people at several different times, that his life is his to live as he wishes. It's invariably followed up by recommendations, and even at times objections when his wishes do not conform to the path they'd imagined. He can't, shouldn't, withdraw from everyone and everything, they say.
Watch me, his current behavior replies.
He's stopped visiting the Iskaulit, save for a single afternoon to memorize a document. Most of the Starduck's crew keeps to themselves, making the avoidance of casual conversation easy. He keeps appointments to train in the gym space in their cargo hold, still makes his own rounds of the ship to check its safety and integrity — and to check that nothing new has been planted on board without their knowledge. He checks, re-checks, and re-checks again the upgrades to their systems. He trains himself, choosing odd hours, times during which other members of the crew aren't likely to observe the way he uses — abuses — the punching bag. It's not solving anything, his brain supplies. It's not answering any questions.
Watch me, his fists beat into the bag in steady cadence. Watch me. Watch me. Watch me.
Watch me, his current behavior replies.
He's stopped visiting the Iskaulit, save for a single afternoon to memorize a document. Most of the Starduck's crew keeps to themselves, making the avoidance of casual conversation easy. He keeps appointments to train in the gym space in their cargo hold, still makes his own rounds of the ship to check its safety and integrity — and to check that nothing new has been planted on board without their knowledge. He checks, re-checks, and re-checks again the upgrades to their systems. He trains himself, choosing odd hours, times during which other members of the crew aren't likely to observe the way he uses — abuses — the punching bag. It's not solving anything, his brain supplies. It's not answering any questions.
Watch me, his fists beat into the bag in steady cadence. Watch me. Watch me. Watch me.
PLANETSIDE
→ Sun's Rest;
A desire to surround oneself with physical beauty seems simple enough, right? He recalls a conversation, one in which the other person had told him that the aesthetic appreciation of a thing need not be based on extensive knowledge or experience. The words were meant as a kindness, he thinks, and they're what sends him to see the glowing grove when he hears of it.
If a single word must describe the place, he supposes that beautiful is the one most would use.
Thankfully it also seems quiet, which is a small miracle. He directs his thanks to the flora and fungi of the planet; were it not for their apparently aggressive allergens, it's likely that there might be more people wandering the paths to enjoy the sights — or wandering off the paths to enjoy other activities. Put in that context, the relative emptiness is a blessing. Still, it apparently doesn't stop all of those with amorous intent and on hearing rustling and moaning (and a sneeze or two) from a particular cluster of bushes, he'd been quick to abandon his exploration of the weeping, flowered branches of a tree, not having any desire to know any more about who's in those bushes or what, exactly, they're doing together.
He stops by the edges of the lake, watching the glowing forms of the fish swimming underneath the water. There's an imagery there for which he doesn't have words. But as he sinks to a sitting position at the edge of the lake, he supposes that he doesn't really need them either. For a little while at least.
If a single word must describe the place, he supposes that beautiful is the one most would use.
Thankfully it also seems quiet, which is a small miracle. He directs his thanks to the flora and fungi of the planet; were it not for their apparently aggressive allergens, it's likely that there might be more people wandering the paths to enjoy the sights — or wandering off the paths to enjoy other activities. Put in that context, the relative emptiness is a blessing. Still, it apparently doesn't stop all of those with amorous intent and on hearing rustling and moaning (and a sneeze or two) from a particular cluster of bushes, he'd been quick to abandon his exploration of the weeping, flowered branches of a tree, not having any desire to know any more about who's in those bushes or what, exactly, they're doing together.
He stops by the edges of the lake, watching the glowing forms of the fish swimming underneath the water. There's an imagery there for which he doesn't have words. But as he sinks to a sitting position at the edge of the lake, he supposes that he doesn't really need them either. For a little while at least.
→ Kenn-Tellnic;
At least this planet is relatively high end, as far as supplying oneself is concerned. Proper combat knives are a requirement and most people would probably scoff at how much of a morning is given over to the pursuit of obtaining just that, but he's picky. He needs to be picky when it comes to something that needs to feel like an extension of his own body and needs to be just as reliable. It's a process that takes him through several shops and half the city before he finds something that meets his standards and specifications; he realizes the time once he's left the shop with purchases secure in their sheaths and decides that the cafe caddy-corner to his current position will do. It's glass and brushed aluminum and streamlined — apparently this planet's high-profile coffee chain — and even the short line of customers moves efficiently.
It's too good to be true.
There's certainly something to be admired in the efficiency of the operation that is taking an order, accepting payment, and fulfilling that order. It's clean. Impersonal. Exactly the way things should be, and the entire thing grinds to a halt when the cashier looks him in the eye and asks, in that distinct retail blend of perky-yet-interested-in-moving-the-line, for his name. It's an uncomfortable moment, made worse by her follow up, the slight slowing of two syllables: "name, sir?"
"Nothing. Never mind," he says, turning away from the counter to move for the door. He doesn't spare another glance for the girl left standing behind her register, nor for the other patrons of the shop. No coffee in the universe is worth answering that question right now.
It's too good to be true.
There's certainly something to be admired in the efficiency of the operation that is taking an order, accepting payment, and fulfilling that order. It's clean. Impersonal. Exactly the way things should be, and the entire thing grinds to a halt when the cashier looks him in the eye and asks, in that distinct retail blend of perky-yet-interested-in-moving-the-line, for his name. It's an uncomfortable moment, made worse by her follow up, the slight slowing of two syllables: "name, sir?"
"Nothing. Never mind," he says, turning away from the counter to move for the door. He doesn't spare another glance for the girl left standing behind her register, nor for the other patrons of the shop. No coffee in the universe is worth answering that question right now.
→ Jungles;
Being around people has become increasingly uncomfortable. He knows it's all internal, all him; he was designed to be a weapon, not a person. At least out here he can put that reality of his existence to good use: there is game to hunt, and he's nothing if not a hunter. And the creatures here are certainly big enough and strong enough to provide a challenge.
When they don't, there's always the escape of pure physical activity, running and hiking and climbing, if he can find it. Anything that presents a challenge; anything that pushes the body to its extremes, that elusive point of exhaustion where the brain finally quiets and nothing exists outside of pushing the muscles to achieve more. It's a luxury in every sense of the word: to have a body that can perform on such a level, and to have not only the freedom to exercise it, but a place that presents enough challenge to do so.
He's being reckless, he knows. But as it's not endangering others, he just doesn't give a damn.
When they don't, there's always the escape of pure physical activity, running and hiking and climbing, if he can find it. Anything that presents a challenge; anything that pushes the body to its extremes, that elusive point of exhaustion where the brain finally quiets and nothing exists outside of pushing the muscles to achieve more. It's a luxury in every sense of the word: to have a body that can perform on such a level, and to have not only the freedom to exercise it, but a place that presents enough challenge to do so.
He's being reckless, he knows. But as it's not endangering others, he just doesn't give a damn.
WILDCARD
→ Elsewhere;
Did we discuss something and I forgot in the hell that has been final projects and exams? Have another idea? Want to go steal some Flouds? I'm open to almost anything, hit me up via PM or at ![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
sometimesamuse and we'll figure out out. I do write starters in prose but if you prefer brackets I'm happy to match.
no subject
[At least they seem to have a gorgeous day, warm but not hot, sunny but not oppressively so. Sucks to be one of the allergy-suffering denizens of this planet, really.]
In this I think I do need to defer to your expertise. So sure, hovering, let's see what happens.
no subject
[She laughs. She doesn't think that's possible, unless her powers work on dinosaurs but that's a big (and highly unlikely) if. But it's a nice thought, isn't it?]
I'm not going to lift us very far yet. Just a few inches.
[She lifts herself into the air first, then him. See, everything's fine! The scarlet energy's a little tingly, but it doesn't hurt.]
Don't worry, I won't drop you.
no subject
Ready when you are.
[Though it's clear he appreciates the explanations offered before the actual action; surprising an assassin with a hair trigger probably isn't the smartest course of action. Nevertheless he is surprised to find himself floating in the air, buoyed by glowing tendrils of red. It's not what he expected, but not in a bad way.]
I'll trust you. [He's not sure what else to say because how do you describe this?!?] Is it too obvious to say I've never experienced anything like this before?
no subject
There is nothing like this. It is freeing, to be able to go anywhere I want.
[Wanda drifts in a lazy circle around him. She's leaving him stationary for now so he can get used to the feeling.]
How are you feeling?
no subject
[He follows her movements as much as he can with his eyes and turning his head. It really does seem like it's effortless for her, which helps with the entire endeavor. He'd hate to have put her to any inconvenience.]
Normal, I guess. I expected it to feel strange, but it just tingles a little. It's not uncomfortable.
no subject
Do you want to go a little higher? Or do you want to try moving?
no subject
How about a yes to both? Seems like a good time to be an overachiever.
no subject
[They rise into the air a little more until they're hovering about six feet above the ground. Wanda picks the largest break in the trees and decides to take them that way.]
Let me know if you're about to hit anything.
no subject
[It’s like being in water, he supposes, held aloft by a force not his own. And it’s unlike water because there’s none of the soft bounce of buoyancy. He’s entirely in Wanda’s control; fortunate, he supposes, that she doesn’t seem to wish him ill.
And that she’d been willing to share this. Flying is kind of neat so far.]
I will. Do your thing, I’ll be fine.
no subject
[She laughs and continues on. They rise at a steady pace through the clearing until they just clear the treeline. Below them, the forest spreads out in all directions.
Wanda turns to him and grins.]
What do you think?
no subject
[It's a ridiculous question, not at all serious, but that's half the point. This is supposed to be fun, and it really is a wholly unique experience. He's a little concerned of course, because the only thing holding him up is Wanda and her powers, but when they break the treeline the view is simply amazing.]
It's a hell of a lot different from being in a helicopter, I have to say. [That's a very, very good thing.] I think I have a little idea why you enjoy it so much.
no subject
[She laughs. This side of him really isn't what she'd expected from Steve's memories and their first meeting, but she's more than happy to encourage it. He deserves a chance to have fun. They all do, given the circumstances.]
You haven't seen anything yet.
[Wanda's hands pulse with power and now that they're free of the trees, they can fly for real. She loves this feeling of the wind in her hair while the scenery whizzes by beneath her, but before she gets too carried away she remembers to check back in.]
Doing all right?
no subject
Oh? Is that a challenge?
[Not that it's a challenge to anyone but herself, really, since she's controlling them. Still it's a feeling like no other to feel the rush of the wind of their flight, to see the scenery below them in such perspective, to feel weightless. In fact, he's almost smiling.]
Doing great. It's amazing.